


winter will have occupied us in the night

by MataVi



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Also me: gotta make it angsty first, Alteans are the Woke(tm) vegans, But would also eat Kalternecker and all the paladins if the situation called for it. Don't test him, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Lotor wants to be woke, Me: gonna write a fic about them braiding each other's hair, Post-Season/Series 05, Started as fluff and ended up not being that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 11:17:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14163666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MataVi/pseuds/MataVi
Summary: Memory of sun seeps from the heart.What is it? -- Dark?Perhaps! Winter will have occupied usIn the night.____________________________________________________________________________________________________Allura and Lotor bond over the aftermath of Oriande and the loss of Altea.





	winter will have occupied us in the night

Memory of sun seeps from the heart.  
Grass grows yellower.  
Faintly if at all the early snowflakes  
Hover, hover.  
  
Water becoming ice is slowing in  
The narrow channels.  
Nothing at all will happen here again,  
Will ever happen.  
  
Against the sky the willow spreads a fan  
The silk's torn off.  
Maybe it's better I did not become  
Your wife.  
  
Memory of sun seeps from the heart.  
What is it? -- Dark?  
Perhaps! Winter will have occupied us  
In the night.

* * *

                Allura never told anyone, but sometimes she found the Castleship terribly lonely and large. At the same time, she felt like she’s alone and surrounded by thinly veiled memories of better times, crushing her from all sides, especially during the nighttime, when the other inhabitants slept and the constant noise and excitement had died down.

                On nights like that she found herself seeking solace in the stars visible from the bridge. She could sit for hours, just watching them blink at her with comforting constancy, telling her that some little pieces that used to build her life would remain there for millennia more, no matter what. The fate of stars was not her responsibility so she could observe them without guilt at taking a moment of inaction.

                Awakened from a nightmare of tight, cold spaces and burning worlds, the bridge was where she found herself going now. She hoped that her visit of Oriande would help quell the memories and would bring her some serenity, but all it seemed to do was make her loss sting more, like pouring salt into a wound.

                In that light, it should be unsurprising that the bridge was occupied, yet she still couldn’t say she was actively expecting company. In the dim light set during nighttime, Lotor’s hair almost shone in the dark with the sort of bioluminescence that she’d never seen, even in her own people, from where he sat, facing the window panels. It seemed to be one of those traits that were neither Galra or Altean, they were simply Lotor. She liked it, a reminder that this person in front of her was more than the sum of his ancestry. It was both a reminder to her to not judge by his father’s species or trust due to his mother’s.

                He didn’t move as she approached and she recognized that as the invitation to join him. Despite that, she still made sure to sit next to him slowly, careful not to spook him, because while he might not be hostile, he was still an unknown element and knowing what she knew about his upbringing, she didn’t trust his instincts to be quite as good as his rational thoughts.

                “Couldn’t sleep?” She asked, settling down just close enough to him to try to convey the sense of intimacy her grieving heart craved at that moment.

                He glanced at her, and she noticed how even his eyes shone in the darkness. The yellow sclera was a Galra trait, yet she couldn’t argue it had to be useful, to be able to see in darkness. She wondered if he saw the colour spectrum like Alteans did or like his father’s people.

                “In the light of recent events I find sleep evasive. Sometimes mind desires different kind of rest than the body does.” He admitted “And it seems I’m not the only one to feel that way.”

                Allura tore her eyes from him, to look at the stars. They shone just as they had ten thousand years ago, when world was different.

                “Oriande brought back some memories, I suppose. They aren’t bad memories, just… hard to remember I guess.” How does she explain loss of Altea to someone who, whilst also losing it, had never been a part of that world in the first place?

                “You miss your father.” He said as if stating a fact. In a way, he was. Allura elected not to look at him. It would be too hard right now, seeing the white hair and blue eyes so similar to those King Alfor had. Her father was a constant throughout her life, and in a span of a moment, he was gone forever, and here she was, sitting on the bridge and talking to his murderer’s son.

                She wished she could see him again, on Oriande. Just once, just to feel him wrap her in a hug once more, just to feel his comforting warmth drive the worries away. But he was gone and there was no release, just duty upon duty, as it would be for the rest of her days.

                All she had left of him was the ghostly shape of him in the form of duty he left her. Duty she felt ill-equipped to perform to his standard.

                “I do.” She confessed, unable to say anything more on the matter. Then, on an impulse, she turned towards him. “Do you miss yours?”

                He pulled back in surprise at the sudden change in topic and she regretted asking. Lotor’s issues with Zarkon were a can of worms that everyone could see, yet nobody dared to open.

                “I should.” He said at least, to her surprise and there was a strange look on his face, one she couldn’t quite place. “But I have to admit that I don’t miss him in the slightest. Is it wrong to not miss a parent?”

                The question wasn’t directed at her, but at the stars above, but she did her best to find an answer for him anyway. The stars weren’t going to give him one, and he deserved better than to be needlessly tormented by some perverted sense of familial duty to a monster like Zarkon.

                “You don’t owe him anything, least at all your grief.” She told him earnestly, begging him to believe her. “What you did saved billions, you have to know that.” She told him as much before, yet she was willing to repeat herself, if it would ease the burden his actions put on him.

                “I know.” He said, still not looking at her. “It was for the greater good. But what does that say about me?” He sighed. “I’m sorry princess. I don’t mean to bother you with my late night musings.”

                She felt something shift in her stomach, and she fought the desire to move closer to him, to take his hands into her own, like he’d done to her, and talk some sense into him. It was a stupid impulse, and one she squashed. She couldn’t take away his guilt any more than she could bring her father back. But unlike with father, she could try to help him.

                “You aren’t bothering me.” She told him. “You have the right to express your feelings and to talk about things that trouble you, it’s not weakness. Sometimes it helps to talk with someone and I’m willing to listen if it would make you feel better.”

                It seemed her words had the opposite of the intended effect on him as he drew away with a smile that looked out of place amidst the intimate vulnerability of the moment. It was like the spell was broken.

                “Then take your own advice, Princess. I am willing to listen to what troubles you at such a late hour.”

                “Don’t change the topic Your Highness.”

                He smirked, but it was an insincere thing, not reaching his eyes. “I apologize, Your Majesty, but you were the first to do it.”

                Allura cocked one white eyebrow.

                “I don’t remember that Your Excellence. Is Your Magnificence sure they have it right?”  
                “Completely, Your Sacredness.”

                She couldn’t help it, she cracked up.

                “ _Your Sacredness_?” She giggled.

                He shrugged. “It fits, doesn’t it? You’re the only sacred Altean in the universe.” He said it earnestly, like it was a compliment, but Allura felt her good mood slip away immediately.

                “You mean the _last_.” She said bitterly, turning back towards the stars. The combusting lights remained unchanged.

                “Is there any difference, truly?” He said, quietly, so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. For a moment she was confused with his words, before she realized what he meant.

                “There is much more that was lost with Altea than just the knowledge and power.” She told him, puzzled at his question. Before Oriande, it would make her angry with him, yet now she knew to not take his warped priorities personally. It didn’t originate from malicious intent as much as just limited experience and understanding.

                He had lived for longer than she had, but the world he had lived in had been changed. The values she had been raised in were gone, replaced by pure, primal need for survival. The parts of the galaxy conquered by the Galra had never experienced freedom and joy the way she had been able to. Ten millennia of terror had changed the people.

                “Yes, of course.” He agreed but she could tell he didn’t really understand. Unlike her, he wasn’t a relic from an age half forgotten, for better and for worse. He probably never even saw Altea. A question suddenly appeared in her mind.

                “When were you born?” She asked. If he was born after the Empire formed, then that meant that Honerva… that Haggar…

                He looked at her in surprise and considered her question warily, carefully, like it was a test.

                “I don’t know. A lot of my early years are a blur to me. Sometime after the destruction of Altea, I reckon. Zarkon wouldn’t keep me alive if the Alteans were still a legitimate threat.”

                Her heart constricted.

                “Lotor...” She said, trying to break it to him as gently as manageable “That isn’t possible. Honerva died before Zarkon betrayed my father.”

                His brows furrowed, seeing the direction she was going into.

                “Then perhaps it was before, I don’t know.”

                She shook her head. “The birth of a prince, we would know.” She began to think deeper. “I did wonder, back before Oriande, when you said there are different types of Alteans. Honerva wasn’t a sacred Altean, just like Coran isn’t, and your father isn’t Altean at all, so where did you get that ability from? But if exposure to pure quintessence from the Rift gave Honerva her abilities, then- “

                “-I told you, that witch is not my mother!” He hissed, drawing back. She caught a sharp flash of fangs in the starlight “There is a logical explanation for this somewhere. Recessive genes or- “

                “-You know there isn’t. It doesn’t matter, in any case. Whoever your mother was or is, it doesn’t change who you are.”

                He looked crushed, like a dam before breaking. “You don’t understand.”

                “Then explain it to me.” She offered, moving to take his hand. He froze and pulled it to his chest at her touch, like she burned him.

                “…I can’t.” She couldn’t tell if the refusal was directed at her words or her touch, but it stung anyway. She drew her hand back with as much dignity as she could manage.

                “Just… promise me that if the worst comes to the worst and it turns out I’m right and Haggar is your mother, you won’t do something stupid.” She couldn’t bear losing what she found in him, so soon after gaining it.

                “I wouldn’t.” He assured her. “Whatever she is, the witch does not define me.” Yet despite his words, he looked troubled. His eyes were darker than they were before and Allura regretted bringing it up. There was a certain feel to Lotor, something primal and half-feral whenever Haggar was brought up and Allura didn’t want to know how and why he picked that behavior up.

                “On Altea, we believed that everyone is free to change their own destiny. Parents didn’t define the fate of their children any more than the type of fertilizer could change the species of the plant that grows from the seeds.”

                It was this belief that created a barrier separating her from her father. He was an influence on her, but once he was gone, any traces of his existence began to melt from her. Soon, she feared, there would be nothing left. The imprints of the strange new world she was in would cover her father’s teachings. She already saw the traces of it. She lacked his kindness, his wisdom. She couldn’t spread Altean pacifist ways while fighting tyranny and it made her feel like a failure,

                “Is it terrible that I can’t imagine what Altea was like?” He asked after a while. “The White Lion thought so. The more I learn about it, the more it seems worlds away. It seems my Father made sure I’ll never reach it.”

                She looked at him, surprised. “Is this what this is all about?” She asked “The Lion rejecting you?”

                He grimaced. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

                “It wasn’t your fault.” She insisted. “You were raised to kill and fight for the things you desire. You had no way of knowing that the Lion needed you to do the opposite. I mean, what would happen if you surrendered your life at one of Zarkon’s tests?”

                He shook his head. “I would die.” He said. “I know why I reacted as I did. It just pains me to think that the mindset I grew to cherish might always remain unreachable. I know I’ll never be able to do what you did, and though it’s no fault of mine, the closeness to my mother’s people will always be beyond me.” He scowled. “It seems it wasn’t enough for Zarkon to destroy the planet and the people. He poisoned us all.”

                He looked at her, eyes glowing. “This is why you and the Paladins are the Galaxy’s only hope. You still know what peace looks like, you don’t have the corruption inside of you.”

                “That’s not true.” She argued, thinking on how far her father’s teachings seemed these days. “Just because you were predisposed to think certain way doesn’t mean you can’t rise above it and learn better. I know plenty of good people that grew up in the shadow of the Empire and yet still retain goodness. There’s still hope.”

                “Not for me.” There was a certainty in his voice that made her heart ache. “I can’t do what you can and I’ve accepted that. I’ve been alive for a long time and I’ve done bad things, horrible things. It took me centuries to see through the lies and I was in the direct position to grow and despise my Emperor. The others don’t have that much time and they certainly don’t all have the experience of seeing Zarkon for what he truly is. If I couldn’t change and grow from it enough to pass the test, with all the time and chances I had, what makes you think that the other can?”  
                She frowned. “You underestimate yourself.” She told him. “And I’m not speaking about reforming the Empire. I have no interest in changing the high Officers and Commanders. They committed too many crimes for that. They’ll be put on trials or executed if they resist.”

                She wondered what would her father think of that. He probably wouldn’t agree and would be disappointed in her aggression. He would never get the chance to disapprove though, because he was a victim of that same system Allura swore to dismantle at any cost, and that just strengthened her resolve.

                Lotor looked taken aback. “I thought killing was against Altean belief?” He asked. “Or was that just killing for survival? Is killing for revenge alright?”  
                She sneered with something cruel.

                “I don’t think Altean principles apply to the people who killed them.” She said. “I don’t owe them my mercy.”

                “You don’t.” He agreed. “But the Galra that killed your people are long dead. Their offspring is the product of the same cruel environment their ancestors created for them. Don’t they deserve a chance to lean better?”

                She wished she knew how to answer him. It was an unfamiliar territory for her.

                She groaned. “Everything seemed easier when I saw all Galra as irredeemable monsters.” She used to be so confident in her decisions. Then came the Blade of Marmora, Keith and the Coalition, and suddenly all actions had consequences, no matter how well intentioned, and now there was Lotor, who was both all she hated and all she cherished personified and Allura felt like a child wearing her father’s robes and pretending to be queen again.

                “Life is usually easier when it’s black and white.” Lotor agreed, “But it’s our job as leaders to be able to look past that and see both sides.” There was a strange kind of determination etched into his face, something nebulous and big, a sense of purpose, something she couldn’t comprehend. He saw and knew more than she ever would in her feeble life-span and suddenly she felt small.

                There must had been some doubt on her face because he continued, more gently. “Leading isn’t easy, Princess. It doesn’t bring satisfaction and you can never do a perfect job when it comes to it. It’s a struggle, but one you need to bear, like your father bore before you.”

                It was as close to a comfort and reassurance one could get from Lotor and she appreciated his attempt.

                “But father always made it look so easy.” She muttered, more to herself than him. But had it actually ever been easy for Alfor? It certainly hadn’t in the last days of the war, but even as a child, Allura had never seen him affected by his job. Had she even known him at all? How could she even keep his memories alive, if that was the case? An ache settled into her chest and she wished he was here.

                How much more was there that she couldn’t know, couldn’t understand? Her father never got a chance to properly mentor her, how can she continue his legacy when she was unsure what that even was?

                “He probably didn’t want to burden you with the perils of ruling. He was a good man and a good leader, that much is clear from all the data I’ve managed to find on his era. You shouldn’t doubt your abilities. It was your leadership that did what thousands failed and caused the collapse of the Empire. Your father would be proud.”

                Something in her heart fluttered. She knew on some level Lotor understood her position but hearing him support her decisions and her attempt at filling her father’s shoes awoke something warm that she didn’t dare name. It wasn’t validation as much as the warm feeling of encouragement and being understood after questioning herself for so long.

                “Do you really think so?” She couldn’t help but ask, feeling once again like a child looking for reassurance.

                “You ought to have more faith in yourself, Princess.” He said, not looking at her. It wasn’t an affirmation exactly but his voice was warm. It was not his words as much as the affection behind them that brought the smile to her face.

                She reached once again for his hand and felt him tense for just a moment before his arm relaxed and he allowed her to grasp her fingers around the part of his appendage not covered in armor. She wondered, on the side, if he ever removed it.

                “Thank you.” She told him, earnestly.

                He turned his head away and didn’t reply but didn’t remove his hand. She didn’t know how long they sat like that, hands intertwined, looking at the stars, when he spoke again.

                “What was it like, growing up on Altea?” He almost stopped in the middle of the sentence, unsure of how to proceed. Allura realized what seemed off to her all the time. There was a vulnerability to him that night that she had never seen in him before. Oriande must had affected him more than he let on.

                It brought out the melancholy that kept her awake to think of Altea. She pushed past it, deciding that he deserved to have this.

                “I could show you.” She offered. “There is a room on the ship that’s capable of showing holographic images of Altean landscape.” It was currently occupied by Kalternecker but she didn’t mention that. She preferred to have it set to juniberry plains with the mountains in the background but the computer was capable of generating other images too.

                “If you’d like to, that is.” She added awkwardly when he didn’t reply.

                “I’d love to.” Neither his voice nor his face betrayed anything and Allura felt suddenly unsure of her idea. Still, she jumped to her feet and dragged him behind her.

                They passed the sleeping quarters silently, as if not to wake the paladins or Coran and then continued directly to the Holo room.

                It was dark when they entered and she wished she could know what was going in Lotor’s head as he observed the darkness. Was he expecting another disappointment after another attempt to reconnect to his heritage? It was impossible to tell with him, guarded as he was.

                She set it up very quickly and somewhere behind her, Kalternecker made noises of complaint after being awoken by the sudden light. She saw Lotor jump at the noise in the back of her sight and fought to smother the laugher before it could bubble out of her mouth. She doubted he would appreciate it or see it as anything short of a mockery.

                “It’s alright, it’s just Kalternecker. She’s a pet animal from the Paladins’ home world.” She called with good humour.

                He eyed it suspiciously but with fascination.

                “Is it carnivorous?”

                Kalternecker let out a loud noise, obviously not appreciating the purple stranger nosing into her personal space and Lotor wisely took a few steps back, hands raised in an universal gesture of peace.

                “Lance insisted on a herbivorous diet for it, but that might be only because it’s easier to obtain on a spaceship so I’d stay away if I were you. You wouldn’t believe the type of fluids that come out of this animals.”

                She wrinkled her noise. “And the paladins drink that.”  
                Lotor looked scandalized. “That’s disgusting and not to mention primitive.”

                “I know.” She agreed, voice full of despair. She shuddered at the memory of Lance drinking the fluid immediately after milking removing it from the animal’s breasts. “Apparently on their home planet, they breed these animals specifically for their milk and meat. I asked about synthesized food and they don’t know it. Most of their meals still comes from the bodies of other sentient beings.”

                “I suppose that meat has more nutrients if it’s natural and not every situation can allow for the privilege of caring about where your food came from, but bodily fluids are just vile.”

                “Hold on.” She said “Please don’t tell me you’re against the Act of Protection of Sentients.”

                 He raised an eyebrow. “In a matter of fact, I am. You have to understand, it’s fraught to hold the entire galaxy to the standard of Altea. You can claim being civilized but if it were a matter of survival, everyone would sacrifice a lesser creature to spare their own life.”

                “But that’s what the AOPOS is for.” She argued. “To set a universal standard we need to begin with ourselves.” She side-eyed him. “Please don’t tell me you’ve-“

                “-eaten non synthesized food? Princess, when you’re with the Empire, survival usually demands sacrifice of personal moral beliefs. You need to be practical about this.”

                She shook her head.

                “We didn’t come here to debate whether it’s morally acceptable to eat Kalternecker.” She said, firmly, setting the final commands on the control panel.

                With a familiar whirl of the machine, the room shifted and changed into her favorite scenery in the matter of ticks. The flowering fields descended as far as the eye could see, juniberries dancing in the wind in the face of the mountains ascending in the background. She could smell the freshness of the air and the odor of blooming flowers.

                It made her heart ache, knowing it was only an illusion and that the peaceful plains are long gone, cruelly erased from existence. It was a familiar pain, yearning.

                “It’s beautiful.” Lotor broke the silence, sounding breathless. She would give anything to understand the emotions flickering across his face.

                “It was my favorite place on Altea.” She admitted. “My father used to take me here often. He thought it was important that I spent some time away from the capitol and he always made most of every opportunity he had to bond with me. We would take a picnic basket and just sit here for hours, smelling the flowers. He’d braid my hair and I would put flowers into his.” This place used to contain so many beautiful memories, but now it’s simply a reminder of what she lost. Its magic was lost. The memories would remain memories only. There would be no new moments happening here. She fought the burning in her eyes. She would not cry.

                Lotor’s eyes moved alarmingly quick across the land, observing the area. Like everything about him, it seemed more of a calculated action than vulnerability without the context. Yet she could see the way he struggled to swallow the feelings, the same way she fought her own.

                “He sounds like a good man.” He said finally. “I wish I could meet him in person.” He sat down, amongst the flowers. He touched one of them tentatively. “They feel real.” He observed with wonder.

                Allura sat down too, smothering the memories of doing the same with her father’s AI before they even developed.

                “I wish that too. He was wonderful, you would love him. And he would know what to do.” She often thought about that during those early weeks while Lotor was imprisoned in the guts of the Castle. What would her father do about Zarkon’s son? Then she liked to think he would agree with her, that he would take precautions necessary. Now, with her anger gone, she could see that knowing her father, he was more likely to show her purple ally kindness, despite all the risks that would cause.

                It was that realization that made her finally come to the conclusion that she would never be her father. She was in a war; she couldn’t afford to have his kindness towards the enemy.

                That didn’t mean, however, that she couldn’t extend it to her friends. It was a delicate balance, but it didn’t make her a bad person, just a cautious one. It wasn’t turning her back on her father’s practices, it was surviving.

                That was what Lotor had been trying to tell her earlier, she realized. He might rationalize war-time decisions to extremes she would not go to, but the point he was making had been the same. She wondered how was it, that if he could learn things from her, she might yet have something to learn from him.

                Suddenly she had an idea.

                Picking a flower off the ground she gestured towards him.

                “Do you mind?” She asked, trying to hide her nervousness.

                He shook his head curiously, so she moved closer to wedge the petals into his hair. He tensed at her touch and she stopped until he relaxed, an unspoken allowance for her to proceed. His hair, she found, was coarser than Altean hair usually was but it was still moldable and soft-looking. It seemed that even the hair lost the brittleness of the Alteans, in favor of the strength of Galra features. It fit him, strangely enough, the hidden strength of his father’s people under the comparatively small looking exterior.

                She hummed gently under her breath, a melody half-forgotten and unfamiliar on her lips and she braided it, occasionally stopping to weave in a flower. She didn’t know why she bothered, knowing that the flowers were just a life-like holographic projection and would vanish as soon as Lotor left the room or someone stopped the projection. It was a nice illusion though and she could pretend the war wasn’t happening, that the man in front of her belonged into this pretty peaceful world.

                Lotor, for his part, was paying attention to her every move like a particularly eager student. He tried to appear nonchalant at first but as time went on she caught him sneaking glances.            

                “Almost done.” She told him. “You know, for a prince, you are rather impatient.”

                “I’m simply curious. It took me very long to grow out my hair, I’m simply concerned your skills might ruin that considerable effort.”

                She narrowed her eyes. “Just because you say it fancy like that, it doesn’t mean you aren’t insulting my hair-braiding skills.”

                He smiled. “I would never doubt your skills, Princess.” He said somberly. Allura had the feeling that he was taking this whole thing more seriously than she. It was frustrating, that even sharing the same moment with him, they were seeing two entirely different pictures. Frustrating, but endearing.

                “Good.” She settled for after pondering on how to reply. “I would hate for you to underestimate me.”

                Then, before he could say anything, she announced “It’s done.” She had a bit of an issue tying the braid up with no string or rubber but eventually solved it by just making a knot with the hair itself, safely assuming that Lotor won’t take it off until she would no longer be in a danger zone.

                He immediately reached back to feel it out tentatively, exploring the unfamiliar shape of the back of his head.

                “It’s… weird.” He said uncertainly.

                “But do you like it?” She prompted.

                He shrugged. “It’s just hair.” It tugged something in her chest. He didn’t understand, didn’t get that hair-braiding was something intimate for her, something she’d only done with her father. Allura thought that was the problem about him. He was too focused on the results, rather than the way there. She elected to make him understand.

                “It’s not about the hair, it’s about the experience.” She tried to explain “It’s something intimate two people can share. My father said it was about caring and showing it.”

                He seemed to ponder on it for a moment, the analytic part of his mind processing her statement and trying to somehow rationalize the sentimentality of it. “Like how some animals groom their youth?”

There was something heartbreaking that this was the example he was able to come with but she reserved her pity for herself. She knew he wouldn’t want it.

“Kind of.” She said instead. “You’ve got the gist of it though.”

He considered it. “I would offer to return your services but I don’t know how.”

                She shrugged him off. “It’s no bother. I can do my own hair.” She proceeded to do just that, though it was shoddier than her father’s work ever was. She refrained from using flowers.

                Lotor watched her as she worked, the interest plain on his face. He fiddled with a flower he plucked. He looked terribly out of place with his dark armor and purple skin. Not like her memories at all.

                “I’m no good at this.” He admitted, looking at the juniberry in his lap.

                “You don’t have to be.” She told him. “This place is gone. We’re building something new and you’re good at that. That’s enough.”

                She sighed, looking at the mountains. “I think it was about time for me to accept that as well.”

                “I don’t think we should let the past die.” Lotor objected.

                “No, not die. Just learn from it and let it lead us on.” He clenched his first around the flower and suddenly, something was foreboding in the gentle wind.

                “Can we stay here for a while longer?” He said, not looking at her.

                She smiled sadly, knowingly. “We can.”

               

               

 

**Author's Note:**

> Do I regret writing this? Definitely because I wrote it while sleep deprived and it no longer makes sense to me.  
> Am I still posting it? Yes because I crave validation and this ship needs more content, I am thirsty.
> 
> The poem is Memory Of Sun by Anna Akhmatova


End file.
